


Just Wizards

by Iusedtobesomeone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dramatic, I have no clue what was going through my head while I wrote this, Sad, They aren’t dating but it’s still Drarry for sure, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iusedtobesomeone/pseuds/Iusedtobesomeone
Summary: After Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has to deal with all his feelings about Harry Potter, and decides that it would be better off this way. A short Drarry fic that I thought up late at night and decided to publish. Many Hamilton references are made, but its not a crossover fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling really emotional one night, and after reading a lot of Drarry and listening to Hamilton, this fic idea came up, so I decided to type it out! Many references are made to Hamilton songs, so it might not make total sense if you haven’t listened to them. Apologies in advance for the probable spelling and grammar errors, this was written on my phone. Please comment and/or give kudos it if you enjoyed this, it really makes my day!! I am re-posting this from my fanfiction.net account, so the publication date is the day I published it there!
> 
> Songs:
> 
> "Your Obedient Servant"
> 
> "The World Was Wide Enough"

I dip my quill into the paper, rest it on the paper, and begin writing my own death wish.

———  
Dear Mr. Potter,

I am slow to anger, but I told a lie, as I reckon with the effects of your life on mine. I looked back at where I failed, and in every place I've checked, the only common thread has been your disrespect. Now you call me immoral, a dangerous disgrace.

Well here's why I'd beg to differ (an itemized list of 8 years of disagreements):

The first was on the train heading towards our future.. the train ride on which you refused my hand. But you refused more than my friendship. You refused power. You could have ruled the world. But no. You decided to side with Wesley, or course. You could have been great, you know..

The second time was every time. Every time you caught the snitch. Every time, you caught the snitch. I was brought up knowing I was better than most everyone at Hogwarts, but from the start I was confident I would be the talk of the class when it came to flying. Then you came along. Harry Potter, who had never ridden a broom before, outflow me? And got a place on the Quidditch team in his first year? My father couldn't have that, so he got me in as soon as he could. It wasn't enough for you, to win every game, was It?

The third time was the end of first year. When our late headmaster pulled his Gryffindor card. We had worked that year, for all of those points. We had done our work, kept our noses down, and what had we gotten out of it? Another victory for you. You never thought of us, did you? Never thought of all the first years who had worked all year, just to be about to feel the glory of winning the house cup.. never thought about all of the times we had been called off, made fun of, for being what we were taught to be? All the times we ignored those comments, didn't let them goad us, to keep the points that would have been lost for dueling? No, you just took that from us, swept the joy off of all of our eleven year old faces..

You never hesitate, you exhibit no restraint, you take and you take and you take and you keep on winning anyway..

Countless times, you've been the one there, obnoxiously screaming your head off about who knows what glorious accomplishment you be just made. And then there's always been me. Your enemy. The one you be despised from the beginning. Could I keep you from winning?

Every time, you've been there with your golden friends. Laughing at me. Was I too golden for you? Hypocrite, you have all your parents riches, and yet you poke fun at me for my inheritance? And what? Because I follow my father's footsteps? I'll have you know, I never had any other choice. From the moment I was born, I was my father's son. My mother might have doubted it, but she had no power to change what he wanted. And you insulted me for that, my inheritance, my expectations, my gold? Gold cannot be pure, and people cannot be perfect, Potter.

You've kept me from the room where it happens, for the last time. I want to be in the room where it happens, for the last time.

You've always stood for the mudbloods, the underdogs, the undeserving. I spent years, wishing I could have a friend like you. But no. You stood up to the teachers. You stood up to my parents. You stood up to him. The Dark Lord. You stood up to him, so I wasn't allowed to stand up for you. And you know what, Potter? If you want to keep standing, then stand.

We hearken, dawn. Wands drawn.

I have the honor to be your obedient servant.  
———

I drop the quill from my hand as quickly as humanly possible. Almost as if it was an instrument that I was pouring my soul out of into the parchment. Which, incidentally, it was. And it was also this piece of parchment that I would be sending to Him.

The center of my universe, however much I despised it. Everything in my life had been around him. Everything was, and will be. Unless that changes. And the simplest way to kill an entire galaxy? Destroy the star.

I may be the villain in your history, but at least I'll be free.


	2. Chapter 2

What's left of my heart stops beating when I catch sight of him. He is standing against he wind, wrapped up in a scarf and wool jacket, hands in his pockets. His hair, mussed as usual, is like a jet black contrast to the grass under his boots, but it blended in well to the inky grey of the sky before sunrise. He is turned away from me, and I have the urge to creep away before he notices me, because he looks so at peace. Even considering what we are here for.

I clear my throat and a step forward, but before I can even open my mouth, he interrupts me.

"Malfoy. Long time, no see..except for he occasional letter, I suppose." His face quirks into a smile as he turns to face me. "How have you been faring?"

"This isn't a party, I'm case you forgot. I'm not here to socialize with you, Potter." I respond stiffly, not allowing myself any emotion.

His smile doesn't falter, but I see something in his eyes become almost sad. "Of course. No time in the busy life of a Malfoy heir. I suppose we should get on with it then?" He looked almost depressed by the thought, which was strange, see if as I had fantasized about this moment for ages. Hadn't I… ?

Snap out of it, I tell myself firmly. You've got a mission, and you can't abort now.

"Dueling position!" I call out. He takes a few hasty steps backwards, then pull out his wand. I copy his movements, (but with much more grace, obviously), and point my wand to the sky, slowly leveling it to his face. But there's this strange glint in his eyes I don't think I've seen before. It makes me falter, and my hand slips up and drops my wand. What's happening to me? Have I always been this sensitive? Yes, my brain informs the rest of me. I sigh. I guess that's true.. around Potter, at least. He's always been there in my life. Whether it was as a dart board for insults or just a familiar face, I realize I've been relying on his damn smile being there. Maybe that's why my father always found fault in me. Maybe every time I came back for the holidays and talked about Potter and how I was going to stop him, that's what pushed my father away. Was I supposed to be indifferent? Looking back, I realize I was rather obsessed with him, in a way.

I can't even chastise myself, though, all I see is Potter walking forward. Is he going to curse me while I'm wandless, the bastard? He doesn't stop to cast a spell, though, just keeps on walking towards me. I don't even have the chance to pick up my wand before I see the look in his eyes. Like twin emerald fires, they burn with something other than hostility. It seems almost familiar, although I don't think I've ever seen his face so intense. I search back through my memories..  
•••  
I stepped up to the barrier, pushed it aside confidently like my father had instructed me. The thugs at my sides smirked childishly, but when I saw his face, I thought something inside me broke. Those curious eyes, the ink black hair, falling in feathers onto his forehead, the perfect mouth caught in the midst of laughing, they all took my soul down from the mantelpiece and smashed it on the ground. I took a deep breath, then stuck out my hand promptly. "So it's true then? You're Harry Potter? They said you were in this compartment, but I wasn't sure if I could trust them..." I felt myself rambling, so, banishing a blush, I added, "…And my name's Draco, Draco Malfoy." I heard a snort, but I couldn't be bothered because those eyes had that look and it was taking the pieces of me and stomping on them for good measure. Then the moment broke, and Potter looked over at his redheaded friend. I puffed up indignantly, how dare he ruin what could have been mine? "You think my name's funny, do you?" I knew I could show Harry better than this. "You'll soon find it some wizarding families are better than others, and you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He looked at my hand, then said coldly, " I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." It was like he took those pieces and threw them off the train and out the window. I kept myself calm on the outside. From then on he was Potter.  
•••

The memory is not enough to shake off the feeling that Potter is directing at me, holding me with his striking gaze until he is standing right in front of me. I can practically hear my heart pounding in my chest, so it must be obvious to him that he's caught some emotion in me. I open my mouth, intending to say something to snap us both out of whatever this is, but I never get the chance. I feel his hand underneath my chin, guiding my gaping mouth towards his, and then his mouth. He kisses me slowly, and it's the most amazing and awful thing I've ever felt.. But it's Potter! My mind tells me. I feel something inside me grow back together, and whatever it is must be taking me over, because I feel myself start to kiss him back- and then he pulls away, and instead of the fire, I see the dull fog of the sadness in his eyes again.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?"

My obviously addled mind can't process what he said before he has stepped back to the appropriate distance and raised his wand. I realize what he is doing, and snap back to reality in a hurry. He still wants to duel after he just snogged me? I can't understand that, and all that comes out of my mouth is something on the order of:

"..what…potter..no…I didn't mean it..not that..not that I didn't mean whatever that was…I didn't mean what I said..stop..potter.."

He smiles an almost tired smile, and raises his wand hand. I see a black wisp curling around it, and horrified, look at my own hand. Sure enough, it's there. The duelers' bind. You can't lose it until both curses have been cast and-

"It's what you wanted anyway," Potter reminds me. Was it what I wanted? Now I'm not sure.. My mind seems to not understand most of this anymore, but I do know I came here with a purpose, and that was to kill my enemy. So, almost without my conscious decision, my wand is up, mirroring Potter's in dueling form.

"Any confessions, Dra-Malfoy?" He asks.

Why are we still doing this? Why don't you come here and do that again? That would fix what you did to me, better than any spell.. is what I want to say. Instead, I hear myself utter a single lie:

"No"

His eyes tell me he knows it's not the truth, but being the chosen one, he's prepared something to say anyway.

"Draco Malfoy, who could have been my first friend, instead, my enemy..maybe the last face I ever see..is this this how you'll remember me? You know, I regret that time on the train. I made a mistake. I should have never turned you away because of one thing. But that was one thing. And yeah, I forgive you for it. But I don't forgive you for the rest. Need I elaborate? All the names you called my friends and I? All the hexes we exchanged? I don't forgive you for that. But even after all that, it didn't change. When I saw you for the second time, heading towards Hogwarts, something in me changed. You did that to me. You did something to me that changes how I was. Because even after all of what you did..I still loved you. Potter, I love-"


	3. Chapter 3

A flash of green light. Heading straight towards him, cutting off his sentence. Cutting off the words I needed to hear long ago, but I couldn't hear now. The streak that lasted only a moment, connecting my wand to him, was like a patch of emerald fire. The only thing that could have saved him, killing him. Ironic.

I strike him right between his ribs.

He falls slowly, the ghost of what could have been, still on his lips. His dark hair trailing out being him, like lifelines that wont help him anymore. His eyes aren't burning anymore- that must have escaped with the flash. His are robes fluttering down with him, the auror in training patch calling out to me, informing me what he could have done. He could have saved so many people. But Harry James Potter is dead before he even hits the ground.

I walk towards him, but am pushed aside. His death must have activated a ward of some sort, because people are flooding the hill. I know the moment they realize what had happened, because their faces turn form puzzlement, to shock, to outrage. I can't hear them scream, all noise doesn't seem to exist now that he doesn't. I can feel their hands reaching out toward where I kneel, broken, on the ground. I see them reaching out, wanting to take my life for his. Wanting revenge. I see their faces when they realize my dirty, damned, soul will never be a proper exchange for their savior's golden one. I see their faces when they realize death would be too easy for me. I see it all, and I know it's true. So I let it all happen.

I let them run past to shake him, to see if there's any hope left, when we all know there isn't. I let their silent screams wash over me, the wailing that, according to them, should be music to me. I let them think they know what happened. I let them think that when they say Harry Potter is dead, that they are making me happy, when really it makes me sick. All of it. Because they think they knew we go he was. Who I was. They know an angel and a demon. When in reality, we were both just wizards.

Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes. History obliterates every picture it paints, it paints me and all my mistakes.

So now I'm the villain in your history. I was too young and blind to see that world was wide enough for both Potter.. and me.

And when he said what he said, and I did what I did, he may have been the first one to die.. But I'm the one who paid for it. I survived, but I plaid for it.

So when I say it, trust me.. if I could spare his life.. I'd I could trade his life for mine.. he'd be standing here right now.. and the world would rejoice..

But would that be enough?


End file.
